Fenris' Alphabet
by PenguinRegina
Summary: A collection of ficlets from a first person point of view. Not in any particular order. May contain some spoilers.
1. A is for Alone

**Author's Note: I got curious about these alphabet ficlet collections and decided I wanted to try and do one about one of my favorite DA2 characters. Since my second play through was all about Fenris, here's some of my disjointed imaginings. I hope you enjoy it! Give me your reviews! – Penguin Regina**

**You all know the disclaimers, DA2 is Bioware's, not mine.**

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><p><em><strong>Alone<strong>_

I'm waiting to be summoned.

It will soon be time for the master to wake up and he will call on me and keep me with him the rest of the wretched day. I breathe deeply and imagine myself somewhere else, where I don't answer to anyone, where my decisions are my own.

Then I chide myself for wasting my precious solitary time on foolishness. I am a slave. I don't belong to myself. The specter of doing another's bidding always hangs over me. I crave solitude. I yearn to answer to no one.

I am never alone.


	2. B is for Bottles

_**Bottles**_

After I smash the last bottle against the wall I feel drained and listless. All this time and I still feel tethered to Danarius. I smash all of his things in the mansion, but I still feel his hated presence here. I loathe and need that feeling.

The wine I drank makes my cheeks burn as I slam a mirror against the floor. I don't want to see the how hideous I look, the savage evil in my face, the hateful lines burned into my skin. I think about them and they brighten to life, lighting up the dark room I'm standing in. The light illuminates and burns me. I feel consumed in hate.

I stalk into the cellar to see what wines are left. I grab a new bottle and cut off the top with my blade before I start to drink. Maybe after a few more bottles I'll be able to live with myself again.


	3. C is for Caught

_**Caught!**_

I was so stupid.

I fell asleep in an abandoned barn after running for three days. My legs couldn't have taken another step if I'd wanted too, but I should have hidden myself better, I should have tried to lay a false trail. They found me fast asleep and exhausted. They roughly manhandle me and tie my hands behind my back. They knock me out with the pommel of one their swords and everything goes black.

When I come to, I slowly assess my situation. The fact that I'm alive means that the reward for taking me alive is greater than dead.

Good.

I feel my bonds. Rope!

I resist smiling. These fools weren't told about my particular talents, then.

I rest as much as I can in the meantime. They give me no food, and shove some water into my mouth. I can taste the sleep agent mixed in. I spit it out as soon as they move away from me to another slave tied in their convoy. I wait for the slavers to stop for the night and settle into camp. It's quiet and the only guard is looking away from the fire and the slaves.

I phase through my bonds and silently slip behind the guard. Before he can acknowledge my breath on his neck, I'm crushing his heart in my hand.

I take the guard's dagger and dispatch the other slavers in short order. They die in silence.

I release the other slaves, ignoring pleas to take them with me or become their master.

I take back my armor and weapons. I refill my own stash of food from the slavers supplies.

I leave the confused slaves behind. They'll probably be recaptured as soon as the next group of slavers comes through the area. However, that is none of my concern.

I will not be captured again.


	4. D is for Danarius

_**Danarius**_

I try to never meet the master's eyes.

To do so, invites unpleasant consequences. Occasionally, he will demand it of me and I brace myself. It also carries unpleasant consequences when he wants it to happen.

He is angry at someone, a business partner who has done to him, what he's done countless times to others.

A kitchen slave comes to the study with refreshments for the master. I see the slave flinch upon seeing the master's furious expression. Danarius sees the slave and narrows his eyes. I see the sadistic delight flash behind his eyes and the faintest glimmer of pity goes through me for the slave. Mostly though, I feel relieved that I won't be the recipient of his frustration this time.

The slave sets down the food and tries to quietly back out of the room. Sadly the damage is done.

"Hold it there. What is this garbage?" Danarius looks over the pastries, cheese and wine that he had asked for previously. The slave looks at his feet.

Danarius gives a disgusted glimpse at the food and gingerly picks up a pastry. He stalks over to the trembling slave. I keep absolutely still.

"Does this seem edible to you?" he screams at the slave, waving the pastry in the slaves face. The terrified slave shakes his head.

The master jams the pastry in the slave's mouth without a warning. The slave coughs and tries not to choke. The master smacks the slave across the face hard enough that I see blood fly from the slave's nose. The man silently weeps as he continues to cough up bits of pastry. He looks at the floor and puts a hand to his face to staunch the blood.

I see the flash of metal in the master's hand and feel my body stiffen in anticipation. The master makes a swift gesture across the slave's neck and the lyrium in my veins reacts to the upswell of magic in the room. The slave's eyes open wide as his life-blood spills on the floor before him and the master takes the power from his life.

The dead slave lands across the food tray, spilling the remaining food across the floor.

The master practically glows from this unexpected infusion of power. Danarius looks around the chamber with distaste.

"Clean this place up. How the filth piles up, is incredible." Danarius says to me as he repairs to his sleep chamber.

Once again I am thankful that my lyrium brands make me too valuable to be killed as trivially as this poor sod. For how long though, I wonder, will that keep me alive?


	5. E is for Elves

_**Elves**_

"Your markings are like vallaslin. Like the Dalish traditionally mark adulthood." Merrill tells me, like she's doing me a favor.

I cut my eyes at her "Mine were burned into my skin with lyrium against my will. I very much doubt yours were."

She balks at the image.

Hypocrite.

I know she is filthy blood mage. Why should she feign surprise at the depravities her kind revel in?

"I only meant that the design is elven in origin. Whoever drew them must have taken your heritage into account, at least…" she mumbles the last.

I scoff openly now "My elven heritage you mean? That means nothing to me. The only heritage I know is slavery. All I have ever been is a slave and my heritage is the abuses Magisters inflict on those deemed beneath them. THAT is my heritage, blood mage."

Her face crumples and she seeks solace at Hawke's side. They cut me a scathing look.

I don't care.

She seeks to instruct me in the ways of the Dalish? The glory of my elven ancestors? The impudence!

What are the elves to me? Just another people who were too weak before the strength of the Imperium. I have no need for such useless things.


	6. F is for Fog Warriors

_**Fog Warriors**_

They found me broken and bleeding after fending off the Qunari from my master's departing ship.

They nurse me back to health, the wives, daughters and medicine women of the tribe. They speak to me as they minister to my wounds and change my bandages, narrating their actions. Soon I have a rudimentary knowledge of their language.

A month after I have been with them, a pair of their warriors; huge, towering males, come into what has become my hut. They speak to me slowly, clearly aware of my limited progress with their language. They want to know about me. All I can tell them is that I'm a slave and I belong to Magister Danarius.

They shake their heads, their horns brushing the roof of my hut. They say to me that I am free, that I am not a slave.

I shake my head. _"They don't understand. You just don't stop being a slave because the master is somewhere else" _I think to myself. I try to tell them, but my mastery of their language must be worse than I thought, they don't seem to understand my words.

The warriors look at me with what seems to be distress, but their naturally stoic faces are not very revealing. They walk out of my hut and one of the women comes in to bring me food and give me my language lesson.

Once I'm well enough to leave the hut, they introduce me to the rest of the tribe. Some of the Fog Warriors are elves. One of them speaks passable Arcanum and he becomes my new language tutor. He fills some of the language gaps I have. I discover that my understanding of their language is better than I had thought.

After a week of wandering around the camp and exploring the surrounding area, I start to feel like this dream-like experience might be real. I begin training with the warriors during the daily drills. They allowed me in, no questions asked.

These strange people, who asked nothing of me and shared everything with me, seemed like beings from some other world that had no connection to the Imperium or any other world I knew.

That's how I will remember them, years from now; mysterious, kind beings without enough malice to see that bringing an unknown into their lives could put them in danger.

That is the eternal shame I will live with; my betrayal of these wonderful people whose only crime was to not let me die on that beach.


	7. G is for Gauntlets

_**Gauntlets**_

I pull them on first thing in the morning.

They're angular and sharp. I keep them razor sharp and are as deadly as the sword on my back.

Even without my phasing ability, my gauntlets are deadly weapons.

Some of my companions chide me for always wearing them, but they haven't lived the persecution I've lived. They've never lived by the skin of their teeth, day in and day out, where the only thing between you and death is your wits and your armor.

My gauntlets have kept me safe more times than I can count.

One day, perhaps I won't feel the need to wear them every day, but as far as I'm concerned, that is a fantasy for now.


	8. H is for Hawke

_**Hawke**_

She visits me unexpectedly.

If she heard me say that, she would throw her head back and laugh saying "If you never expect anyone, then every visit is unexpected." She would be right to say so.

I'm used to being invisible. As Danarius' bodyguard, no one would openly acknowledge my presence. As a slave, I was just part of the machinery that kept the household running. As a free elf among humans, I was just another elf. I have never, to my knowledge, been sought out for _myself_.

It's equal parts incredibly flattering and frightening.

Hawke always brings a surprise with her; a fancy pastry, fresh fruit, a polishing cloth for my weapons, anything that would catch her eye that she thinks I may need or want. It was so confusing to me the first few times it happened.

She simply smiled my discomfort away and made herself completely at home, somehow without making me feel encroached upon. I have no idea how she does it. Varric once joked that my personal space reaches all the way to the Gallows. I don't think he's far wrong.

I don't know why she keeps coming.

I am not a gracious host. I never have anything to offer except the odd bottle of wine. When I listen to myself speak, I marvel at how cutting everything sounds. That's why I tend to keep quiet.

But Hawke gets me to talk. She gets me to share. She makes me want to open up.

And while the feeling is exhilarating to speak freely, it frightens me deeply.

When she leaves, all the comfort she brings leaves with her. And I'm left with just my own dry thoughts and dreadful memories. The cold winds of my mind chill me.

Sometimes I wish I was invisible to her too, but now that I know what her attention feels like, I don't ever want to give it up.


	9. I is for Isabela

_**Isabela**_

"You have no idea what you're missing, Broody" she whispers in my ear before she saunters away, hips swinging enticingly. I keep my face impassive as I watch her walk away. She's very sexy and if I'm going to be completely honest, I have been tempted a couple of times. Her smooth caramel skin makes me think of hot summer nights and spiced wine. If I took her offer, I'm fairly certain she could bring me exquisite pleasure.

But tonight, like every other night, I pretend to be unmoved. My face has been schooled by years of slavery not to betray my emotions if I set my mind to it. As a slave my body was used in ways I wish the lyrium would burn from my memory, as it did with my past. I belong to myself now and I will choose who and when to share my body with someone.

My eyes wander towards Hawke and Varric who are elaborating a story into ridiculous proportions for their captive audience at the Hanged Man and I feel my lips tug into a half smile. I will choose someone who will understand that opening myself up is a sacrifice, someone who appreciates me and doesn't wish me otherwise.

The crowd roars with laughter and I chuckle along. Perhaps one day, perhaps never, but I will not choose tonight, Isabela, not tonight.


	10. J is for Join Us

_**Join Us**_

"Do you know how to play Wicked Grace, elf?" Varric asks me with a roguish glint in his eye. He is standing in my mansion, looking just as comfortable here as he does everywhere in the city.

"I play a little. Why do you want to know?" I ask as I pace in front of the fireplace. It's the warmest spot in the place. I don't care for the cold.

"We need another man at our weekly game. We were wondering if you would join us." Varric shrugs eloquently, making the offer seem both trivial and familiar, like we're just old friends. I barely know this dwarf and here he is extending me an invitation? I don't know what to say. I open my mouth and am stunned by the words I hear myself speak. "Sure. When, where and how much is buy in?"

Varric grins widely and he hooks his thumbs on his waist sash. "Great! Hawke, Isabela and I will be at my suite in the Hanged Man later tonight. Don't worry about the buy in, Hawke already paid it for you." He turns around and walks out into Hightown.

I am puzzled by the whole exchange. Why ask me? Why would Hawke buy me in?

That night I arrive at the Hanged Man and head up to Varric's suite, as instructed, still wary of the entire thing. Everyone is already there. Of course, Hawke lives with some uncle in Lowtown and Isabela and Varric both live in the tavern.

"Am I late?" I ask tentatively.

I sit at the table and Norah comes in with three tankards of ale, a goblet and a bottle of wine. She gives me the wine and hands out the ales.

My eyebrows rise at the detail. I don't care for ale and someone noted my preference.

"No, I just got here myself. I barely set the order for drinks before you came in. Is that wine alright?" Hawke asks. Ah, yes, that makes sense. She would have noticed. She notices a lot of things.

"Yes, its fine." I drink some. Perhaps not as fine as some of the vintages at the mansion, but a perfectly good wine.

The night progresses and we play numerous rounds of Wicked Grace, the alcohol flowing comfortably. Soon enough none of us entirely sober and we begin to talk about ourselves. Isabela tells us possibly true stories from her time at sea. Varric does wicked impressions of prominent members of the community, peppered with some truly scandalous gossip. Hawke tells us about her childhood in Ferelden, surrounded by family, dogs and mud. And I catch myself speaking about places I have been and hunting parties I have evaded.

As it gets later, Hawke begins to yawn and Varric declares this is the last hand. I feel a pang of regret. Why? It's just a card game, which I am losing at, something fierce.

Isabela wins and stuffs her winnings into her bodice and leaves. Hawke stands up to go and I venture an offer. "It's late, would you allow me to walk you home. It may not be safe." Varric smiles knowingly (at what?) and puts away the cards. He calls Norah to clear out the empty tankards.

Hawke smiles girlishly and nods in agreement. We walk out, promising to do it again the following week.

The walk is uneventful and soon we're at her door. She looks into my eyes and gives me one of her smiles. "I'm glad you decided to join us. I love making new friends. Good night, Fenris!" with that she turns and goes inside.

As I walk home I ponder everything. I had a good time. I'm surprised they would pick me, but I am pleased.

Friends, huh? I guess so.


	11. K is for Kirkwall

_**Kirkwall**_

This city screams at me with its smells. From the fish stench of the harbor, the over-ripe perfume of the Blooming Rose, the claustrophobic reek of Darktown, to the smelly indifference of Lowtown; the city wears its odorous badges proudly.

The people here seem blithely unaware of the cacophony of smells their town is host to. I have only just arrived, and have been hiding near the Alienage. The Alienage smells the worst. It smells of desperation and defeat. It smells of half yearned for things without names. The elves there smell of humans and they have no idea.

Kirkwall is city that doesn't seem to know itself from one place to another. Each section of the city, is its own microcosm. This is the place I have been driven to. This is where I will make a stand. I will add my own scent to this mess.

I will add the smell of blood and fear to the night.

Hunters, come and find me, if you dare!


	12. L is for Lyrium

_**Lyrium**_

The magic in my skin is palpable to anyone with any little bit of magical power. The siren call of the lyrium in me sings to any mage nearby. When I'm angry or excited or feeling any intense emotion, I feel its subtle burn all over my body.

Some days I look at the lines on my skin and simply accept them there, like they were the most normal thing in the world.

Other times I hate the look of them, staining my skin, setting me apart from everybody else, making me a freak.

I sometimes wonder what it was about me in particular that allowed me to survive the ritual that put the lyrium there. Was it my strength? Was it some kind of concentration trick, now lost to me? Or maybe, when I feel particularly self-loathing, I wonder if I had been a mage before the ritual. Would _that_ have made the lyrium adhere and not kill me outright?

Meeting my sister Varania brought all these old questions back. My own sister is a mage! Would she have performed the same ritual on me? Would she have helped Danarius torture me with the poisonous liquid now branded in my flesh? If I had been a mage, would I have done the same?

While I may resent the markings on my skin, I use them all the same. They have saved my life countless times. I have incorporated them so fully into my swordplay, that I can't imagine fighting without them.

I have a complicated relationship with the lyrium. Without it, I would not be me. However, because of it, I am what I am. Somehow, I can never decide which is good and which is bad.


	13. M is for Magic

Magic

I wake up drenched in sweat, choking on a scream. The brands on my skin pulse slightly, their light subsiding from the stress of the nightmare-no, the memory I had just relived.

I can still feel the phantom manacles around my wrists and ankles. My skin crawls from the sensation of the blades cutting into my flesh and the agony of the lyrium being applied to my skin.

I rub my face with my hands to remind myself I'm not really there. The oppressive darkness of the mansion is too much for me right now.

I crawl out of bed and nearly fall down. My legs feel like rubber. I must have been thrashing in my sleep. I feel exhausted.

I climb up to the roof of the mansion to clear my mind. I can see the hazy light of the coming dawn in the horizon. The breeze cools my body and begins to calm me down. I wrap my arms around my knees and stare towards the Gallows.

I wonder what the mages there think of their confinement. I know what the thoughts of the Abomination, Anders, are about the subject. But he is an idiot, a possessed idiot, at that. He's the embodiment of how magic is a trap for the weak, even the well intentioned. That thought leads to Merrill, stupid Merrill and her blood magic.

I can feel myself grimace.

Both mages tainted, both thinking they were doing some good by consorting with demons. Mages always have some delusion about how they were not going to harm anyone, or how it was "just this once", or that their needs are more important than anyone else's.

But there is always a price for magic. Be it big or small, the mage or those around them, someone always pays the price for magic.

My master wanted a better bodyguard and so I paid. I paid with my past, my freedom, my body and my peace of mind. This broken thing that I am is the price on one vain man's desire.

Someone always pays for magic.

I straighten my back and absently begin my stretching exercises as the sun begins to peeks over the water.

What Danarius doesn't realize is that he is going to pay me back for his magic. He's going to pay me back with everything he's got.


	14. N is for Night

Nights

I follow Hawke home from the Hanged Man. She's had a few too many pints. She walks with assurance and a steady pace, but I can tell she's not entirely sober.

It's been a month since we found Leandra with the necromancer Quentin. I can tell she is not alright.

That night I tried to comfort her, but no one can heal a wound that deep overnight. I held her close that night and left before dawn.

She puts on a brave face during the day. She laughs at Varric's jokes and smiles with Isabela and Merrill. But come the night, I can see the pain she's in.

I know about pain.

I know about pride too.

Sometimes pride is the only thing keeping you together. Sometimes pride is all you have to cling to. Sometimes pride is the cave you can hide in to lick your wounds.

So I follow her home. I leave a few minutes after she does. I don't say a word. I keep to the shadows and let the night keep our secrets.


	15. O is for Ogre

_**Ogre**_

I had been on my own for about three months. Thankfully, the north is warm, and food is not too scarce. I traveled merely with my armor and my weapon. The small satchel at my hip only contained the barest scraps left from one small meal to the next. I was subsistence hunting every two days and raiding whatever supplies I could find. I was like a stray dog, scavenging for survival. I'd always been thin, now I was gaunt.  
>I was not really giving my future any thought. All I knew was that I had to survive and I had to get as far from Tevinter as possible.<p>

I was generally headed south, towards Ferelden. I knew little about it, except that it was a place that the Magisters derided, and escape-minded slaves fled to. The fledgling country had outlawed slavery and that was enough of a reason for me to go to it.

I had gotten lost and had only the faintest idea of where I was going. I found the tunnels quite by accident.  
>I had never seen the blocky, dwarven architecture before, but I surmised this must be one of the many abandoned entrances to the Deep Roads. I had been barely avoiding a group of slavers for days and decided to take to the tunnels.<p>

Being a slave, no one thinks to share world news with you, Whatever you pick up is quite incidental. So, news of the Blight in Ferelden had yet to reach me. The tunnels seemed like the best choice for making better time and eluding the slave hunters.

I walked the Deep roads for two days without incident. My eyes grew more accustomed to the dim light filtering from fissures overhead. The first night I spent in the Deep Roads I barely slept. Sounds of movement, the dripping of water, things flying about overhead all conspired to keep me awake. I continued as soon as the meager light of day seeped in. I found small streams which contained pale fish that served as my food source, but I was already thinking I had to leave the tunnels when a sudden lack of noise stopped me in my tracks.  
>I reached for my sword just as the first roar shook the walls of the tunnel. My brands flared to life, brightening the path enough for me to see the ogre charging towards me in the distance.<p>

I had no time to consider a plan of attack. I was underfed, tired and alone. The ogre seemed to fill the whole tunnel.  
>I ran as fast as I could.<br>It roared again and charged at me. I was torn between dampening my brands and making myself a less obvious target and keeping them bright for speed and protection.  
>I chose the latter (which later proved the best choice, as Anders assures me that Darkspawn can see perfectly well in the dark, as well as smell their prey).<br>I spotted a smaller tunnel, half submerged in water and I dove towards it. I had no idea where it went to or if there was more to it than just a hole in the wall, but it seemed the best way to get away from the raging beast.

Even in my emaciated state, I barely fit through the tunnel. I was barely a few yards in when the ogre rammed his head into the fissure, trying to get at me, roaring into the tiny space. The noise was like a physical force and it is one of the few times I have been frozen by fear. My position was indefensible, I could barely move, let alone wield my sword, and the creature was determined to kill me.

Once my heart was beating again, I kept pushing into the crevasse. I turned my back on the ogre and hoped the opening actually led somewhere. There was no way out but through.

The ogre kept pounding on the entrance as I was plunged farther into the rock. Suddenly the ground under me gave way and I was under water. I sputtered to the surface. I dove towards the new opening to find a large cavern. As I adjusted to my surroundings, I noticed that I was no longer the only source of light. The cavern had a natural entrance!

I have no clear memories on how I got out of the cavern. All I knew was that the evening breeze on my drenched skin felt like heaven itself.

After the run in with the ogre, I promised myself that I would never go back to the Deep Roads.

Of course, I broke that promise.

We ran afoul of ogres and much worse on Bartrand's expedition, but I was never gripped by the same helpless panic of that first time. I didn't know it at the time, but that merry band of misfits would change me forever.


	16. P is for Pride

_A/N: Sorry for all the delays in updates. IRL has been more R than usual. I hope to be posting a few more chapters soon. ~Penguin Regina_

_**Pride**_

"Andraste teaches us that pride is a trap we build for ourselves" Sebastian said solemnly as we shared a bottle of wine in his quarters at the Chantry.

I feel that the exiled prince is something of a kindred spirit. He doesn't tease or argue. He doesn't demand explanations or expect witty banter.

We bond over the changes we are each experiencing as individuals. He is considering how he will change from a brother of the church, back to a royal prince. He has guided me through my change from slave to free man. We are both creatures in transition.

I raise an eyebrow and give him a look over the rim of my glass of wine. I wonder where he's going with this. A cornerstone of our friendship has been his restraint from preaching at me. I furnish him with dispassionate advice about returning to Starkhaven as ruler.

"We need to be open to experience things, Fenris." He continues smoothly. "Pride will kill invention and initiative if we let it."

I look at the bottle and begin to tally how much he'd had. He doesn't look drunk and it didn't seem like enough for this kind of nonsense talk, but Sebastian is not habitually a drinker. "I'm eagerly awaiting the point of this sudden turn in the conversation." I counter.

"The point is, Fenris, that we are men who are crippled by pride." He states, turquoise eyes ablaze. "We miss out on life because of our pride." He shakes his head. "I mean, look at Isabela-"

A laugh escapes me, before he can finish. "How can anyone not?" I say with a half smile.

He smiles as he blushes lightly. "That wasn't what I meant, but certainly, she is attractive." He chuckles before continuing. I refill our wine glasses and take a piece of cheese.

"What I mean is that Isabela doesn't allow an inflated sense of self importance restrain her! She lives her life to the fullest and enjoys every sordid moment of it."

"Are you regretting your dedication to the Chantry? Missing the old life of debauchery?" I ask, genuinely perplexed. Sebastian has always seemed truly happy with his role as Chantry brother.

"No, no, no! Maker, no! But you and I, we hold back. You must admit that we keep away from things, from experiences! It's pride Fenris! We fear what we'll become if we give in. We don't want to seem like we're vulnerable to human foibles." This last grand statement was delivered with a rueful shake of his auburn head and a deep drink from his wine glass.

I pull the wine bottle towards me. I am _absolutely_ cutting him off _now_.

"I'll have you know, that I don't have a single human foible." I smirk. I'm starting to understand Varric's enjoyment of being a smart ass.

"Nonetheless, I agree I am a proud man. But there is strength in pride too. Pride made me keep running from Danarius. Pride kept me honing my swordplay. I just don't feel like playing the fool for anyone anymore. I prefer they think I'm cold and proud than idiotic and weak." I swirl my wine and shrug my shoulders. I know what I am. I prefer the pretense of proud aloofness to what really seethes under the surface.

"I just think we could step out of our stiff little niches and give in to our impulses occasionally, don't you?" Sebastian said quietly, reaching for some fruit.

"So, are you giving me permission to finally rip Ander's heart out through his throat? I must admit I have certainly been holding back from that as long as I've known him" I jibe at Sebastian. I can't seem to help myself tonight. I keep my face stoic as I sip my wine.

He opens his eyes wide and just stares at me mid-chew. Our eyes meet and we can't help but smile at each other. The whole convoluted conversation died in that smile.


	17. Q is for Quest

_**Quests**_

It never ends.

Hawke has an unerring ability to get caught up in any and every conflict and situation in Kirkwall. Sometimes I wonder how this place worked before she got here. We have solved things from missing rings and other belongings to complicated plots to overthrow the powers that be. A lot of the time I think people are just taking advantage of her.

Every time one of her quests pops up, she comes by the mansion, full of enthusiasm and energy. Then she asks "How about it Fenris? Want to come kick some ass?"

If she puts it like that, how can I say no?


	18. R is for Reading

_A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I will keep it coming! Thank you, thank you, thank you!_

_I hope I keep you entertained! ~Penguin Regina_

_**Reading**_

I am dreadful at this.

"You're doing great!" Hawke exclaims as we (finally!) finish with the reading primer. Her eyes are wide and bright with cheer.

I narrow my eyes and feel my scowl deepen. "You don't have to be patronizing. I know I'm very slow." I shake my head and cross my arms across my chest. I wonder how long before she gets sick of my glacier-like progress and stops my reading lessons.

Hawke sits bolt straight and looks at me with a blank expression. As she blinks a couple of times as color climbs up her neck to her cheeks and she open her eyes even wider.

"Fenris, you've got to be kidding me!" She exclaims throwing her arms into the air. "In a month you've learned to recognize and write the alphabet and you can sound out this entire primer! That's at two lessons a week, so…eight lessons into this? You're some kind of genius!" She shakes her head and gets up to pace in front of her library fireplace.

I look at her incredulously. She's most likely just stroking my ego. "Any child could do what I've done. You said yourself that the primer was like the one you used when you were six. I'm not sure how old I am, but I am definitely not six." I slump a bit into the chair.

Hawke stops pacing, puts her fists on her hips and stands right in front of the fire. "At age six I had already been learning to read for a bit over a year. I was the child of a Tower educated mage and a noblewoman. Teaching their kids to read was just par the course. I had books all around me! I was taught my letters every day!" she says excitably, her cheeks flushed from emotion.

Despite myself, Hawke's outburst is starting to change my opinion, but she's not finished.

"Besides, I'm a dreadful teacher! Bethany would be much better at this than me. She's the studious one. She's the one who got all the patience in the family." She strides up to me and pokes my chest with her finger. It's a bit like being attacked by a furious woodpecker.

"So, I don't want another word from you about being a bad reader. You're doing amazing, I'm a bad teacher and that's that! Now, grab that book up there. Not the green one, the one with the red cover. –Got it? Good. Sit your ass down and read the title to me." She sweep imperiously into her chair and stared at me intensely as I jump to comply.

"S—si-ege, siege –har-der. Siege Harder? Isn't this one of-? Oh yes, Va-rr—why does Varric have two r's in it?- Varric Te-se—no, Te_th_eras. We're going to read one of Varric's books?" I ask, baffled by the strange turn in my reading lesson.

"Seeing as you want more progress and Varric writes in fairly simple words –don't ever tell him I said that, yes, we'll be reading this. Besides, it has plenty of action and suspiciously familiar characters. It'll be fun." She is grinning at me as she says this.

"I don't know what to say. I'm sorry I doubted, Hawke, I-"I stammer, still uncertain of my feelings on the matter.

"Shh, never you mind. I know you have no patience, but don't put yourself down again. That's my friend you're talking about and I won't have it." She says as she places a hand on my wrist. "Now, let's begin with Varric's best seller to date. I'll warn you though; it's a complete bullshit fest."

I chuckle and turn to the first page. "The han-dsome—handsome- dwarf seemed to have met his match… oh Hawke." I groaned after reading the first line.

Her merry eyes sparkled. "Go on; wait till you meet his bumbling companions."

I groan again and carry on with my reading lesson.


	19. S is for Sweeping

_**Sweeping**_

She brushes the hair from my face and a thrill goes through my body. I still can't believe she chose me. That of all the men that would love to be here, I'm the one allowed this privilege.

I stare into those bright blue eyes and they crinkle as she smiles. I can't help but smile back. My heart sings with joy.

She has allowed me a second chance. I don't think I even deserved a first.

Her eyes grow heavy with sleep and she buries her head between my chin and my shoulder. Her body is molded to mine. The lyrium in my skin thrums happily, a completely new sensation.

I remember, much too long ago, when we first came together. The day after, Varric looked at us and immediately knew what had transpired:

"So...you and Hawke?" the intrusive dwarf had asked.

"What about us?" I'd said.

"I want to make sure I get all the details right when I tell this story. Did you sweep her off her feet or was it the other way around?" he continued with a sly grin.

"I'm not telling you anything but this: There was no actual sweeping involved." I responded and stormed off.

This time though I must admit, I think she really did sweep me off my feet!


	20. T is for Tevinter

_A/N: I want to thank all my readers and reviewers for spurring me onward! _

_Special thanks go out to my native PR and it's sweltering weather and how It compares to other places. I too have been the odd duck happy to be in 85 degree weather while everyone else is becoming puddles all around me. ~Penguin Regina_

_**Tevinter**_

"Fenris it's sweltering! How can you wear all that armor all the time?" Hawke looked at me askance. The trip up to Sundermount had been long and tiresome under the summer sun, but to me the temperature was just right. We had just made camp on one of the flat outcroppings on the mountain path the Dalish hunters sometimes used as camp grounds. Tomorrow would be another full day of battling oversized spiders and who knows what inside the caves, but for now we were resting. Everyone looked peeked, especially Anders, whose stupid feathers pauldrons positively drooped on his shoulders.

I shrugged and kept sharpening my sword, but my sweaty companions apparently had nothing better to concentrate on.

"It's been a very sunny day. I don't ever remember the mountain being this warm at this altitude before. If we were with the clan, we would be mostly undressed by now." Merrill added, unasked.

Anders looked close to fainting. Hawke had removed most of her armor and Merrill seemed about ready to make good on her promise of nudity.

"Well, it's not an elven trick, if Merrill is hot too. So, what's the secret Fenris?" Hawke asks me as she fans herself with a bit of cloth.

I sigh before answering. "I'm from Seheron, Hawke. This is like a mild spring day there. Even in Minrathous, the temperature is much warmer than it generally gets in Kirkwall." I shrug again."If you must know, I'm usually cold. This is the kind of temperature I prefer."

Hawke's mouth forms a silent 'o' at the information. Anders snorts and begins to rip off his pauldrons, finally giving up on battling the temperature. Merrill has been surreptitiously taking off her armor. She's now in just a light shirt and leggings. She splashes herself with some water from her canteen. She offers a bit to Anders who nods enthusiastically.

"You never talk about Tevinter. Do you miss anything from home?" Hawke asks more quietly as she mops her neck with her kerchief. I kind of like how she looks when she glistens like that.

"Home? I wouldn't go so far as to call Tevinter home. It's the place I suppose I was born in and where I escaped from. The weather is warm and the vegetation is lush. Otherwise I can't say I would recommend it." I respond without much heat. I presume she must still think of Ferelden as home and probably assumes the same for me.

"At least they have less barbaric ideas about mages there. That's something for Tevinter, even if it's bloody roasting all the time!" Anders butts in gracelessly.

I start feeling the heat now, but it has nothing to do with the weather. It had been going too long without his smart mouth going off. Why couldn't Hawke have dragged along Isabela or Varric instead? I tighten my grip on my sword and try to ignore him. I cut my eyes at him and he smirks at me.

"That is the most ignorant, short-sighted. idiotic thing I have heard you say in a long time Anders!" Hawke barks at him. For once, Anders and I react the same.

"To say that a corrupt, slave-driven abusive nation like Tevinter is superior because it allows its mages to indulge in any magical perversion rather than have _some _regulations is beyond offensive! I would kill Bethany with my own hands before I saw her become a monster like Danarius!" Hawke is now flushed with anger, the rag in her hands is twisted into a knot. I would gladly recreate that knot with Anders throat if she said the word.

My heart melts a little with every insult she tosses at Anders. When did she switch over to my side?

Anders must be wondering the same. "So has this wild animal convinced you that everything about magic is evil? Now _you_ are being narrow minded! I just mean that mages there have freedoms that we can't even imagine in the south!" His eyes flash blue as his demon is attracted by the conflict.

I tighten my grip on my sword. If he so much as flicks a finger at Hawke, his head is coming off.

Luckily, that's when Merrill, all good intentions and no forethought, burst into the exchange. "Goodness, you all certainly have very spirited conversations about the weather. I can't say I've ever had such an exciting time with such a bland topic before! What can we talk about now? Oh! I know, how about the unreasonable closing of the viscount's garden to the public? Everyone should be allowed in there, don't you think?"

Anders takes control of himself and I see his eyes are brown again before he stalks off into the bushes. Hawke is still simmering, but carefully unfurls her rag on her knee before she faces Merrill. I am dumbstruck by what has just happened.

Seeing as Hawke is unable to answer, I pitch in. "I guess they should be open to the public. I believe it's city funds that maintain them. They are quite nice...in a floral sort of way." I finish lamely.

Merrill flashes me a smile and nods contentedly, looking at Hawke to see if this will also bring about another heated argument. Her face darkens some as her 'hot topic' falls short. She shrugs and wanders off to find Anders.

Momentarily alone with Hawke, I have to say something, but she beats me to it. "I'm sorry I brought up Tevinter. I'm sorry about Anders and I'm sorry I brought the whole thing up..." she shudders as her body starts releasing the tension.

I tentatively touch her hand. "Thank you for understanding, I didn't know you had absorbed quite so much...Thank you for understanding." I say huskily.

"Let's not talk about Tevinter anymore." She says ,her usual good humor returning little by little.

I nod and remove my hand. 'Yes, let's not. 'Tis an awful place."


	21. U is for Underwear

_A/N: This was the first of the alphabet ficlets that I wrote. It's the one that decided me that I could do 26 of these. DA2 has such great characters! I always love Isabela being inappropriate, don't you? ~Penguin Regina_

_**Underclothes**_

"Are they white?" Isabela asks.

"No" I respond without paying attention to this inane game of hers.

"Red? Oohh, I can just picture you in red!" she squeals as we trudge down the paths of the Wounded Coast.

"No" I answer.

"Green? You're an elf. Elves like green" She tries again.

"Not green" I climb over a boulder and walk closer to Hawke and further from Isabela.

"Blue? Like Hawke's eyes!" She shouts at me.

I hear myself growl in my throat. "NO. Leave it already" I snap. Why is she always bothering me with this?

She jogs to catch up with me and is soon at my side again. I can see Hawke pretending not to listen.

"Let me guess; black. What a lack of imagination! You tough guys think black is the only color there is." She scoffs next to me.

Hawke smothers a chuckle.

"I refuse to keep answering today. Maybe one day you'll find out" I say and walk ahead of the group. I hope I find someone to kill very soon.

Hawke links arms with Isabela and gives her a smile. Isabela smiles mischievously back.

I shake my head. Maybe I should just tell her don't wear any underclothes.


	22. V is for Varric

_**Varric**_

"You're cheating dwarf" I accuse nonchalantly.

Varric opens his eyes wide and feigns innocence (badly). "I would ask you to prove such a shameful allegation before trying to besmirch my sterling character, elf! For shame!" he says. Meanwhile I spot him shifting something in his sleeve.

I smile and shake my head. In a thousand years I would never have thought that I would meet someone like Varric and come to consider him a friend.

Varric is a cheater, a liar, a shameless busybody, and could probably have someone killed without ever hearing a word about it again.

That being said; I know that I could trust Varric with my very soul if necessary.

If Hawke is the fearless leader of our merry band, Varric is the mother hen that makes sure everyone plays nice and is doing well.

"I could teach you how to play, Broody. I mean, if you're ever only going play with Blondie or Daisy, then fine, keep it up. But if you want to play with the big kids, then I could teach you a thing or two. You can at least bluff. That face of yours is made of granite. I'll give you that." Varric declaims benevolently.

I roll my eyes and tally my loses.

"By learning to play, you mean learning to cheat." I point out.

Varric keeps his face looking noble and proud. Yes, he means cheating.

"Okay. Why not? Maybe I'll get some of my money back from Isabela" I say shrugging.

Varric gives a whooping laugh. "Don't get ahead of yourself there, Broody. I said I'll teach you, I didn't say I'd make you the champion of the world. There are some levels of cheating that are too sublime to be tampered with. The lovely Rivaini is one of those paragons."

We have a laugh and order another round of drink so Varric can teach me "how to play".


	23. W is for Warriors

_**Warriors**_

"Come on lad; get your head in the game!" Donnic chides the young guard I'm sparring with. He is standing on the sidelines of the practice yard with the other young recruits and an increasingly angry looking Aveline.

"Stop, stop, STOP!" Aveline cries out, she's pinching the bridge of her nose. Her temper is making her red in the face. I sheathe the practice sword at my back and remove a pebble from my toes. I almost feel sorry for the boy.

"Artor, did you learn ANYTHING from me?" She towers over the young man, who is actively shrinking from his irate captain.

"I have been teaching all of you to block and bash with your shield for over a month now! THIS is the best you can do? If Fenris wasn't using a blunt sword, we would be picking up bits of you for days to come!" She roars at the unfortunate lad and now, sensing that they need it, at the other recruits gathered.

"But he's so fast!" One of the guards on the sideline foolishly quips.

"Just because I use a greatsword doesn't mean I must be a lumbering beast. That kind of assumption can get you killed." I nonchalantly toss back. It's an assumption I have used to my advantage time and time again. People see the huge sword and think it'll take me three days to swing it at them. By the time they realize their mistake, they are often on the wrong side of my blade.

Aveline crosses her arms over her chest and glares at her recruits. "You are sadly deluded if you think you can size up an enemy just by looking at him." Aveline turns and gestures in my direction. "I asked Fenris to help me teach you precisely to prove a point. He is an elf, so you imagine you'll be stronger. You see the big sword, so you imagine he'll be slower. Little do you know, you've been sparring with one of the best warrior's I have ever met. Now you've seen how fast and accurate he is with that thing. Never underestimate your opponent." She declares as she strides across the yard to the weapons rack. She takes a sword and shield from the rack. "Fenris, will you allow me to show them how it's really done?" She asks, saluting with her sword.

I feel myself blush faintly at the compliment and I nod my acceptance. Aveline and I have never sparred, but we have fought side by side often enough to know what to expect from one another.

As the whole exercise is about defense, I quickly attack. Aveline deftly blocks and pushes me away. Her strength is impressive. Striking at Aveline feels like going up against a wall. We go through various versions and techniques. Time and time again Aveline repels my attacks.

Her recruits seem to gain a better appreciation for her style and several mimic her stances from the sidelines.

The exercise draws to an end. We salute each other as Donnic yells the recruits towards their next task. We head to the weapons' rack to drop off the practice equipment. As I start to clean the practice blade I had been using, Aveline speaks up.

"You don't have to do that. I'll have the recruits clean in here. "She said, setting her practice weapons down.

I shrug. "I'm used to it. It'll only take a moment." I turn to face her. "I want to thank you for this opportunity. You've done a lot for me over the years. Helping you train the recruits is the least I can do in return." I tell her.

"I can't understand your fixation with staying in that wreck of a place, but as long as I can keep the nobles off your back, I will. You are my friend." She shrugged, dismissing her kindness of years now.

"You are well named Aveline." I say.

"What do you mean?" she answers.

"I read about Ser Aveline recently. Your father named you well. I have fought all kinds of warriors, and rarely have I come across skill like yours. You are noble as any knight could hope to be. I think she would have looked up to you. You actually became what she sought to be."

Aveline gapped at me in disbelief. Her face grew red as her hair very quickly. She turned away from me just as Donnic returned to report to his captain.

Donnic looked from his wife to me and his face grew concerned. "Is everything alright?" he asked Aveline.

She nodded quickly and passed the back of her hand over her eyes.

Had I offended her? I put down the clean sword and prepare to apologize.

Aveline shook her head and gave a little smile. "I see what she means now."

I'm frowning in confusion. "Did I say something wrong?" I look to Donnic who is also looking for clues. He shrugs at me, equally at a loss.

"No, Fenris. I just finally understood something Hawke told me once about you." She smiles kindly and repeats Hawke's words: "He doesn't say much, but when he does, it makes your head swirl."

"Is that a good thing?" I ask her.

"Yes, it is. Thank you for the compliments and whenever you need something, don't hesitate to ask me for help." She nods, still blushing slightly, and abruptly leaves the training grounds.

Donnic and I look at each other.

After a moment, Donnic breaks the silence. "So…Diamondback at your place tomorrow?" He gestures towards the exit.

"Yes. Bring food" I reply and start walking out. Donnic accompanies me.

"Very good. I will see you then." We nod at each other and I walk out of the Viscount's Palace, still unsure of what Hawke and Aveline meant.

I ask Varric about it later, and he just guffaws and slaps the table. "Elf, you are one sly duck! Who knew there was a silver tongue hiding behind that giant sword? I can just imagine Aveline blushing from her head to her toes!" he chortles and shakes his head.

"But I was just telling her my honest opinion!" I say to the overly-pleased dwarf.

"And that's what made her heart flop into her stomach. Watch out, elf, keep sweet-talking the women and there may be consequences." Varric just keeps grinning at me.

Having gotten nowhere with this, leave the table. As I get closer to the door, I overhear Varric mutter "It'll be broody babies left, right and center if he keeps that up!"

I give up on trying to understand people and just go home.


	24. X is for Xenon the Antiquarian

_A/N: I will admit, this idea built up slowly. While my Hawke shops, I sometimes wonder what the rest of the party is doing. Also, it always makes me giggle that no one comments on the changes you do to your character at the Mirror of Transformations. Short-haired, blue-eyed brunette one minute; long, white hair and red eyes a second late, no one says a thing! So this ficlet came from those random thoughts. Enjoy!_

_~Penguin Regina_

_**Xenon the Antiquarian**_

"Welcome to the Black Emporium!" The ancient-sounding voice booms in our heads as we enter the twisted bazaar once again. The phlegmy voice makes my skin crawl for ever so many reasons. The flesh statue at the center of the room is another testament to how magic taints everything it touches.

I was curious about the proprietor once and Varric told me how Xenon had sought immortality, but had merely managed to eventually trap himself in his own mummified remains. Despite all the horrible things I saw as Danarius' bodyguard, Xenon's disfigured body and incorporeal voice, still make me shudder.

Hawke comes to the Emporium to buy and sell interesting items. To be sure, the things the Emporium carries are quite exclusive and rare. Today Hawke needs new armor and is perusing all the items in stock. I look around uncertainly. Varric and Merrill also seem ill at ease. Varric is stroking Bianca more than is either usual, or decent. Merrill is looking at the golem, and _only_, at the golem. It seems to me she is avoiding looking anywhere near Xenon. Maybe it cuts too close to home.

As if sensing our discomfort while Hawke shops, Xenon's dreadful voice starts recounting a tale about some of the items currently displayed. His voice makes me want to wash my brain out with soap.

Hawk chooses the pieces she wants, giving Urchin the money for her purchase. I dare to hope we are leaving and I can't help fidgeting and looking around. However, Hawke's attention falls on the giant mirror tucked away in one the room's alcoves. She stands there for a while, as if she's hypnotized.

I frown at the mirror. It looks familiar, but I can't put my finger on where I've seen one like it. Varric stands nearer to me and we share a long suffering look. I spy Merrill, trying to engage Urchin in conversation, her back decidedly towards the Antiquarian. She reaches out a tentative hand and touches Urchin's shoulder.

Xenon's voice booms at us. "Don't manhandle the urchin! He's not for sale. Find your own!"

Merrill jumps like cat that just had water poured over it. She retreats towards Varric. The dwarf takes her hand in his and pats it comfortingly.

I start to amble towards Hawke when she turns away from the mirror and back to us.

"Okay, I think that's everything. Let's go." She grabs her purchases and starts walking to the exit. I elongate my stride to catch up with her. I'm walking at her side as she turns towards me and bats her eyelashes at me. She looks different somehow. I frown.

"What? Oh, you don't like it." She sighs heavily.

"What did you do? Did you change your hair somehow?" I ask, confused.

Merrill and Varric are quickly catching up as we step out of the Emporium. The sewers are as fragrant and dim as ever, but I can tell that her hair IS longer.

Merrill walks up to Hawke and runs her fingers through Hawke's hair. "Oh! You used the Mirror of Transformation? That's an interesting enchantment. It's similar to the Eluvian. It's really quite a versatile item." She grins as she says this.

Hawke shrugs and possibly blushes. "All I use it for is minor cosmetic reasons. Xenon told me it can completely change a person, but I like myself just fine. But hey, even a sword wielding girl likes to get pretty sometimes."

"Nonsense! You are a beautiful woman without any enchantments Hawke! How could you mess around with wild magic like that for such a foolish reason!" I burst out, amazed and disappointed.

Hawke looks surprised and a bit deflated.

Varric barks a laugh. "Well, the elf seems to have the gist of it. You certainly don't need magical help in the looks department Hawke. I may not be morally opposed to magic like Broody here, but be careful. You've seen how handsome Xenon is. I'd hate for something like that to happen to you."

Hawke smiles tentatively at Varric. "I just really hate that in-between stage when I'm growing out my hair. I promise I'll stay away from it. Really, it's no big deal." She says running her fingers through her hair.

I huff around the rest of the afternoon, not giving anyone much conversation. I keep my eyes on Hawke. As the day progresses I have to admit to myself that it really is an attractive look for her and she seems unharmed by the magic.

I sigh and approach Hawke. "It's very nice. Don't do that again though." I murmur as she looks at me.

Her lips quirk into a half smile. "Okay Fenris. Thanks for the compliments."

I grunt and walk away.


	25. Y is for Youth

_A/N: This chapter wrote itself in a couple of hours today! I'd been struggling with the letter Y, not a lot of words start with Y, but I kept thinking about how Hawke's memories of her youth are her rock, and how Fenris basically has no life before the ritual. It's a bit of fluff to sweeten the end of my labors. Enjoy!_

_~Penguin Regina_

_**Youth**_

"Salt water taffy!" Hawke squeals and breaks ranks from us. She scuttles over to the vendor by the docks. Isabela claps her hands and joins her, buying a small sack of it for herself. The women rejoin Sebastian and I.

"I love this candy! It makes me feel like a kid again. Father would always bring some for us whenever he was away from home. It was cheap and he could buy enough for the three of us." Hawke explains as she offers some to us. I shake my head, but Sebastian takes a piece.

"I used to buy it whenever I had extra money as a girl." Isabela chimes in as she swallows her first piece. "It was the cheapest candy available, but I loved it all the same."

Sebastian chewed his piece thoughtfully. "I never had this before, it's good. There is a pastry called a bannock, traditional in Starkhaven, that I cannot resist. My gran would always have them for tea. She was the sweetest lady. Elthina sometimes reminds me of her."

I keep quiet, hoping they'll forget I'm there. What can I contribute to this conversation? But of course, Hawke never forgets anyone.

"What about you, Fenris? What's your favorite treat?" She tactfully refrains from adding any mention to childhood.

"I don't know. I've only recently been getting food based on taste rather than price. Before that, it was whatever the other slaves were having." I walk ahead, hoping they'll leave it at that.

Isabela, always the hedonist, has to investigate. "Surely, there's something you'd _like_...?" Which, of course, sounds dirty enough for Sebastian to choke a bit on the other piece of candy Hawke gave him.

"Never mind her" Hawke says. Isabela sticks out her tongue. "I know you like sweets, which one do you like best?" She says determinedly.

"I don't know Hawke. I never thought about it much. I don't have pleasant memories to associate with anything. Whatever happened in my youth is gone. Can we drop the subject?" I'm starting to get irritated.

"Apples" Sebastian chimes in suddenly. "You said you liked apples, that time we were helping Tallis." His turquoise eyes are squinting happily as he smiles.

"True...I do like them. So there you go." Foolishly, I imagine the subject is done.

A week later I hear a knock on my door. Curious, (since most of my friends simply barge in) I open the door to find Bodahn at my doorstep. Even more curious, he bows at the waist and announces "Serah Fenris, you are cordially invited to supper at the Amell estate this evening. Shall I tell lady Hawke you are coming?" He is all formality, waiting for my answer.

I look back into the gloom of the mansion and think of my likely supper here, some cold cuts and bread. I know that Hawke is up to something, but I'm up to nothing, so I answer; "yes, I shall be honored to attend. At what time am I expected?" Tit for tat, Bodahn.

"In an hour, ser." He replies curtly.

"Very well. Then I shall get ready" I reply. I shine my breastplate and get my gear on.

At the estate, the table is lavishly set for two. I raise my eyebrows as Hawke comes in. She is wearing a blue dress which I've never seen before. Her hair is done up and she's even wearing jewelry (for looks, not for magic protection!). She looks stunning. "Glad you could make it Fenris. Please, have a seat."

Having attended many formal dinners as Danarius' bodyguard, I kick into formal mode. Before she can get to her seat, I pull out Hawke's chair for her. She smiles at me. "Thank you ser, but you are the guest, please make yourself comfortable."

I sit down and soon the first course is served. Hawke gives me lively conversation and pours out wines for each course. As the meal progresses I get more comfortable and open up a bit more. We tell jokes and funny anecdotes. The food and wine keep flowing well into the night. Finally, Hawke gives Orana a signal and the elf maid bobs and heads to the kitchen. A trundling noise makes me lose the thread of conversation.

Orana is pushing a many tiered cart into the dining room. The cart is covered in different desserts and treats. There aren't two of the same thing on it.

"I can't get your youth back for you, Fenris. However, I can certainly help create pleasant memories. I also believe everyone should have a favorite treat. Soooo...I have here every pastry, candy, dessert and treat I could find in Kirkwall for you to try. Let's see if we can find you a favorite thing, shall we?" Hawke's eyes are wide and earnest.

I'm stunned by her generosity. "I don't know what to say. This is more than I deserve..." I start to speak. however, Hawke waves her hand dismissively. She stands up and goes to the cart.

"Oh, stop it. Here; try this one first. It has candied apples and I thought it was divine." She says placing a sugary confection in front of me. "Not another word of self derision. Today we find you a favorite food or we die trying!" She exclaims melodramatically. She sits down with a plate of her own. "I'll only eat half, so you can try this too. It's Antivan custard. I love it!"

And so we spent the rest of the night picking at the food on the cart. I decided that the apple crumble was the best, and Hawke complained that I didn't let her eat any of it. That night is now a treasured memory and another reason why I can never repay my debt to Hawke. How could I, when all she does is give and refuses to take anything in return? Thank you for the new memories Hawke.


	26. Z is for Zevran

_A/N: Well, here it is the final chapter of my alphabet. I have loved all the reviews and I'm grateful that you've enjoyed this. _

_This particular chapter came about for a number of reasons. First, the obvious contrast of the two elven men in the DA companion roster. It was followed closely by my disappointment in the conversation that results in the continuation of the Fenris/Hawke romance. That milquetoast segue from 'where are you going to live Fenris?' to 'oh, by the way, remember that torrid love affair we started a while back..?' seemed a bit mismatched. I think Fenris needs a little pushing to get things going, and I knew just the elf that was going to give him a shove._

_Thank you again for all the lovely reviews and to those who followed and favorite this story! You made me happy to keep writing!_

_~Penguin Regina_

_**Zevran**_

I instantly dislike this smarmy elf.

His lies are worse than Varric and Isabela's combined: he claims to be an ex-Antivan Crow, as if such a thing is possible. He claims to be friends with the Hero of Ferelden _and_ King Alistair. He must take us all for ignorant Dalish right off the caravan.

He's arrogant too. He has a Dalish girl tell anyone who asks where to find him. Really? He thinks he's that good? I could have his heart in my hand before he could blink!

Upon meeting Hawke, he immediately begins making lewd advances on her.

I feel the rage instantaneously building. What's worse, I see her blushing at his artless flattery, his double entendres, and his salacious jokes. She seems charmed.

My teeth grind so hard my jaw aches after an hour.

Hawke agrees to help the knife-eared swine to get rid of the Crows that have followed him here and want him dead.

Of course she does. That's how she became the Champion.

I would solve all his problems with a swipe of my blade. However, instead of fulfilling my fantasy, we kill a dozen or so Antivan Crows.

At least I get to kill _someone_.

As he rejoins us after the battle I could have sworn he was going to dare to proposition Hawke right in front of me. I clutch at the red sash at my wrist to keep from launching myself at his smug face.

Before I get to rip him to shreds, Isabela steps up and declares her intention to give the elf a good tumble. I thank the Maker for sending the bawdy wench with us. He bids us a cheery farewell on Isabela's arm.

I'm still seething when Hawke turns to me with a smirk on her face. "I couldn't help but notice that you weren't very keen on Zevran." She says once the pirate and the elf are out of earshot.

"No" I try to say, but it flies out of my mouth, angry and raw.

"Admit it, Fenris. You were dying of jealousy. You were burning up with jealousy! You were like a great forest fire of jealousy!" She teases with a sly smile.

I cross my arms over my chest. "I will admit to nothing of the sort. You are a woman of discerning taste and noble birth. Maker's sake, you're the Champion of Kirkwall! I wouldn't imagine that his dirty, common notions would appeal to you. I was offended at his crude treatment of you."

Her eyebrows reach for the sky and her smile widens into a grin. "Oh, I don't know. I can appreciate a handsome elf who knows his way around a blade. You two have a lot in common actually."

I feel my face darken and my blood boil. I _know _she's manipulating my feelings, but I am just _that_ off balance after restraining my rage all day. If I could have had an hour or two to cool off, I wouldn't have grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her like that in front of Varric.

Ugh, Varric.

Loud mouthed, gossip-mongering, tattle-telling, busybody, nug-humping Varric.

But my mind isn't on that right now. All I can feel is the crush of her body against mine, the softness of her lips, the ardor that returns that kiss. I feel her arms wrap around me and we stay like that for an eternity.

I claim her with that kiss. I feel her doubts about my feelings for her disappear in that kiss. I know that I am hers to do with as she will.

When we release each other, her eyes are open wide; her mouth is red and swollen from my attack. She looks breathless and flushed.

Good.

Of course, that's when Varric butts in.

"Well, well, _well_! My goodness Broody, who knew all we had to do, was throw a little competition your way to get that ball rolling?" He chortles, clearly tickled pink by my slip of control.

Hawke puts her fingers to her lips and a smile spreads. "Honestly, if I had known that flirting with another elf would be this effective, I would have done it ages ago!" She shares a delighted grin with Varric.

I narrow my eyes at both of them. My dignity and patience have suffered enough for one day. I begin to walk back to town by myself. Let them hoot and holler all they want. I am done for today.

Back home, the following day; I start to reflect (_not_ brood) on what happened on Sundermount. I cover my face with my hand as I imagine how Varric is going to blow my slip of control entirely out of proportion. By the end of the week he'll have concocted an entire romance novella about just one kiss!

I know what I have to do. I take a swig of wine for courage. Strapping my sword to my back, I make the brief journey to the Amell Estate. I knock and Orana answers the door.

Bodhan smiles placidly upon seeing me cross the threshold. Orana has melted into a shadow.

Orana and I know we make each other uncomfortable. We have a silent and mutual agreement not to speak to each other any more than necessary. We are living reminders of our degrading past. Still, I am glad Hawke employed the girl. Kirkwall would have eaten her alive on her own. Thinking back to that day, I cringe internally. I had barked at Hawke thinking she would keep using the girl as a slave. Obviously that thought never crossed Hawke's mind. I was embarrassed I had even suggested it. Mark another loss of control at Hawke's expense.

"Ah, serah Fenris! I shall tell lady Hawke that you are here to see her." Bodahn says jovially. He turns and walks to the study. He walks out with Hawke practically stepping on his heels.

She is dressed in her short house robe and soft boots. Her fists are balled on her hips, like she does when she is about to launch into a tirade. Her eyes are blazing with intense emotions and one eyebrow is raised inquisitively.

I know a challenge being issued when I see it.

Fine.

I close the gap between us and stand up straight before her. At my full height, I am a few inches taller than she is. She is a tall woman and I had always assumed we were the same height. How about that?

"I have come to apologize." I say directly to her. I see Bodahn and Orana making for the great room in order to 'overhear' more discreetly. Before yesterday, I would have balked at having an audience. As of now, I don't care.

"Oh." Hawke responds flatly, her tone implies disappointment.

"I want to apologize for my dreadful behavior with you. Yesterday and…before. I have been a coward. We've never spoken of that night, three years ago. I – I was a fool." My voice dips lowers with emotion. This is not easy for me.

Hawke's arms drift to her sides, her fists relax. Her face shows amazement and she simply says "Oh!"

I carry on, before I stop myself. "That night was everything I could have hoped it could be. I remember every touch and caress like it was yesterday. I should have begged your forgiveness long ago."

She looks pained and confused. Her eyes lock with my eyes. "Why did you leave?" she asks quietly.

I shake my head. "I was afraid. The rush of memories I experienced, the intensity of my emotions, all the confusion about myself and Danarius. I didn't know what to do, so I ran away. I thought you would be better off without me." I clench my fists. "If I could do it over I would stay. I'd stay and tell you how I felt."

"So, what is it you feel Fenris?" she asks in a small voice.

Tentatively, I take her hands and step closer. We are just inches apart and I feel like a magnet is pulling me to her. I break her intense gaze and the words rush out of me. "Any future I have must be at your side. I can't bear being without you anymore."

Our eyes meet again and a wave of dizziness washes over me. But before I can react, Hawke launches herself into my arms. My dread turns to delight. We kiss passionately for who knows how long. When we finally release each other's lips she looks at me and simply says "It's always been you, Fenris. Only you."

She takes my breath away. All I can answer is "I am yours."


End file.
